


Work of Art

by august_anon



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Body Paint, M/M, Painting, Teasing, Ticklee Logic | Logan Sanders, Tickler Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Tickling, sfw, ticklish!logan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-16 22:58:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21044198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/august_anon/pseuds/august_anon
Summary: Roman just really wants to paint on his super attractive boyfriend. Logan, surprisingly (or not so surprisingly), is very willing.Warning: This is a tickle fic!





	Work of Art

**Author's Note:**

> This is a (late) birthday fic for the lovely and wonderful cefsticklestoo on tumblr! Her birthday was on October 6th and she asked for some Logince tummy tickles. Go find her on tumblr and read her fics and show her love!

Logan shifted in discomfort as subtly as he could. He felt extremely exposed, lying shirtless on the tarp Roman had laid out on the floor so they wouldn’t make a mess. He didn’t even know why he agreed to this in the first place.

(He was lying, he most certainly knew. In his defense, he couldn’t deny Roman when he was waxing poetic about Logan’s beauty and asking, “Oh my dearest gorgeous boyfriend, won’t you _ please _ be my canvas? No art could be more beautiful than when painted on your body.”)

Roman finally came back in the room with his paints, gaze falling onto Logan with what Patton and Virgil will describe as “heart eyes.” He gave Logan a big smile and knelt on the ground to run a hand through his hair.

“Relax, dear one,” Roman said, climbing onto Logan’s hips. “This is gonna be fun!”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “I think we both know how this is going to go,” he said, giving a pointed look to Roman’s paintbrushes.

Roman laughed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Then he turned a mischievous grin onto Logan. “And yet you still agreed.”

Logan looked away and crossed his arms, scoffing. He would later deny the blush staining his cheeks.

Roman laughed, playfully tugging Logan’s arms back down. “Here,” he said, a teasing lilt to his voice, “let me help you warm up.”

Suddenly, his lips were on Logan’s abdomen, blowing loud raspberries and pressing ticklish kisses into the skin.

Logan cried out in shock and mirth, entirely not expecting the ticklish sensations. He grabbed Roman by the hair, not sure if he wanted to push Roman away or pull him closer. He ended up just gripping the strands for mental stability.

Roman finished his assault by darting up to kiss Logan’s still-giggling lips.

“All warmed up, then?” Roman asked cheerfully.

“That’s one way to put it,” Logan grumbled, reaching up to fix his glasses, which had been knocked crooked in his hysterics. He squealed when Roman tweaked his side.

“Hush, you’re supposed to be a silent muse!”

“You asked me a direct question! Plus, I don’t think there’s going to be much silence for a good while.”

Roman raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You’re really asking for it today, aren’t you?”

Logan scoffed again, averting his gaze.

Roman’s smirk turned into a grin as he laughed. “Hey, why do you think I suggested this? You really think I couldn’t tell?”

Logan felt his blush flare up again, but he didn’t respond.

Roman messed with his paints and brushes for a few moments before grinning down at Logan again. “Ready, my love?’

Logan took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders, settling his arms down by his sides. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Roman coated a paintbrush in white paint and Logan steeled his resolve as it got closer and closer to his stomach. The brush dragged down his stomach and he _ squealed _, uncertain if it was from the ticklish bristles or the feeling of the cold, slimy paint. It took all of Logan’s willpower not to squirm.

“Aww,” Roman cooed through a chuckle. “I’ve barely done anything yet and this is getting you so good! I knew this would be fun! I can’t wait to draw all of that heavenly laughter out of you.”

Logan whined through his giggles, digging his fingers into the tarp under him. “Ro, no teasing, please!”

Roman switched brushes and colors before resuming his art project. “But teasing is so fun!” He got a sly grin on his face and shot a glance up at Logan. “I thought you _ loved _teasing!”

Logan squealed again and tensed with all his might to avoid flinching when the brush passed over a particularly sensitive spot near his side. “It makes it worse! I don’t want to ruin it!”

Roman gave him a sweet smile and raised the brush, giving him a break. He quickly kissed Logan on the cheek. “You’re so sweet, but I won’t be mad if that happens.” The teasing grin returned. “It just means we’ll have to start again.”

Logan’s eyes widened and he tried to lock all of his joints in place. Roman laughed and tutted, but didn’t say anything; he just moved on to the next color.

Logan snickered and squealed and squeaked and shrieked, Roman visibly relishing in every reaction. The brushes were _ so tickly _.

He’d known it would be bad, but Logan didn’t know how much longer he could keep still. His resolve weakened with every giggle, his body shaking more and more with every new color. And Roman may have stopped _ verbally _ teasing, but he kept making little coos and hums and evil laughs under his breath.

Then Roman reached the area around his hips and pant line and Logan nearly _ screamed _. His hips involuntarily jerked a few time before he got control of them again. His hands flew up to grip his hair as he cackled.

“Not there, not there!” Logan cried.

Roman laughed. “Relax, love, it’s not much, just some shadows. Gonna do the same on your ribs and then it’s back to that adorable tummy of yours.”

Logan fought all the alarms in his head telling him to shoot his arms down to protect his ribs. He kept his hands firmly gripping his now very messy hair.

“Not adorable!” He laughed out.

“I beg to differ! I’d kiss that sweet tum if it wasn’t covered in paint at the moment. I suppose I’ll just have to settle for those sweet lips as soon as we’re done.”

Roman moved back to Logan’s stomach and, now that he’d started laughing instead of just giggling, the intensity of his laughter would not go back down. It didn’t help that Roman had now moved on to detail work, using smaller, pointier brushes. They were _ unbearable _, but somehow Logan held out.

Logan panted when the brushes finally left his body. He opened his eyes, not even realizing he’d closed them. He looked up at Roman, who had leaned over to his paints again.

“Are we done?” He asked through heaving breaths.

“Not quite,” Roman replied, still messing with his supplies. “Just about. Catch your breath.”

Logan nodded and laid his head back down, closing his eyes. His breath slowly evened out into something more calm and he relaxed, forgetting there was something more to come. His eyes snapped back open when he felt Roman’s forearm bar across his sternum, just above where the paint ended.

Roman gave him a shark-like smile, playfully malicious. “Try not to go ballistic, love,” he said, and shoved a paintbrush into Logan’s belly button.

Logan’s eyes practically bulged out of his skull before they squeezed shut again. He desperately howled at the delicious torture. The bristles scraped and fluttered against the walls of his innie, the paint helping make the movements more fluid and smooth

Logan knew that Roman kept painting in that dreaded (beloved) spot longer than he needed to, stopping only when there were tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. Logan shrieked as Roman _ slowly _ lifted the brush out of his belly button.

Roman reached up and patted Logan’s flushed cheek. “Now we’re done, my dearest.”

Logan chuckled and turned his head to press a kiss to Roman's palm. “And what did you paint, my dear?”

Roman smiled, wide and happy, and snapped a picture on his phone before handing the device to Logan.

There, across Logan’s torso, was painted a giant, ticklish-looking peacock feather. Logan felt his whole body flush at the obvious tease.

“A tickly feather for my feather-sensitive love!”

Logan shoved the phone back at Roman, having to remind himself not to cross his arms in embarrassment. He grumbled wordlessly for a moment before sitting up and grimacing at the uncomfortable cracking of the drying paint against his skin.

“What now?” he asked, adjusting his crooked glasses.

Roman leaned forward and gave Logan a few sweet kisses, leaving him dazed.

“Now,” Roman spoke against his lips between kisses, “we clean you up.”

Logan’s eyes shot wide open and he drew back, gaping.

Roman grinned. “You ready for round two?”


End file.
